


Pity from a Dumb Clown

by Nemuri no Shiromi (dreamingfifi)



Series: Pain, Persperation, Persecution [3]
Category: Blood Alone, Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Beika Shinigami, Chronic Illness, Death, Demons, Depression, Empath, Exorcists, Expath, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Goddesses, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Magic, Major Illness, Mystery, Null - Freeform, Pagan Gods, Pneumonia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Priestesses, Seer, Seer Heiji, Supernatural Elements, Superpowers, Team Up, Truth Seer, Vampires, Why do people die around Shinichi?, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingfifi/pseuds/Nemuri%20no%20Shiromi
Summary: Kaito meets a dying KID Killer in the hospital, but something is off. No one visits him, the hospital has emptied the hall his room is in, and Akako is ranting about demons.





	1. Stupid Universe

Kaito almost dropped his box. This was probably one of the more dangerous situations he'd found himself in. Bombs exploding, bullets flying, falling off of buildings... none of it compared to accidentally running into Conan Edogawa, The KID Killer, in his civilian persona. Not that Conan himself was looking particularly dangerous at the moment. He had a thin, clear plastic tube pumping oxygen into him, sweaty, fallow skin, and blue-tinged lips. The sound of the breaths that struggled to his ears reminded him of the sound a straw makes, when trying to suck up the last bit of soda pop. An air-purifier was whirring under his bed, which was shrouded in clear plastic sheeting, making a clean room inside the room, with space for germy-outsiders to look in on him. Tired eyes rolled to glance at him, then rolled up and out of sight, covered by heavy lids.

The nurse nudged him, so he'd stop blocking the doorway. Nothing happened. Perhaps Conan hadn't recognized him. Maybe the world wasn't about to end?

“This is the kid I told you about,” the nurse said quietly, arms crossed over the comical print on his scrubs. “He's going to try to make you leave by insulting you, so don't take anything he says too seriously. He's just scared, lonely, and extremely sick.”

“I can... hear you,” Conan grumbled, pausing every couple words to catch his breath.

“Do your best!” With a cheerful, sanitized smile, the nurse fled the room.

He was trapped in a room with a bored, vindictive KID Killer.

“Clowns are … dumb,” the wheezy little voice snarled.

“Magician,” he corrected automatically, setting the box down.

The little eyes snapped open, and Conan pulled himself up onto his shaky elbows. A cold, crooked smile cracked across his colorless cheeks, sadistic as a cat with its half-alive prey.

“You look tired,” he muttered, “Perhaps you can catch my show some other day.” He picked his box up, ready to flee.

“No!” Conan snapped. “Stay here … and talk … with me. Don't bother … with the pa … parlor tricks.”

Picking up and setting down his box of props was getting tiresome. He brought it over to the side of the KID Killer's bed and sat on it obediently.

“Don't be... so scared. I'm not … going to...” a fit of coughing overtook him, shaking his little, pallid limbs. His lips were a darker blue, and it took a few minutes before they got closer to the red side of purple.

“So,” Kaito started, while Conan worked on breathing. “So, I wasn't expecting to meet you. I mean, I've been performing for sick kids for the past few weeks, but I had no idea that you were sick like this.” He picked up the clipboard at the end of the bed, and scanned the chart. “Immunodeficiency of unknown origin, and an opportunistic bit of pneumonia? Is that like AIDS?”

Conan scowled at the words, “unknown origin.”

“Of course, you've probably already figured out what's caused it all, and they're too dumb to listen to a little kid, so you spend your days torturing them. Is it something like that?”

“Poison.” The word was hardly audible.

“A poison can do this?” he looked incredulous for a moment, but Conan's fierce frown told him to set aside his doubts. “Do you know who did it?”

Conan weakly nodded.

“And you've caught them, at least, right?” He watched the little face carefully, hopefully.

Conan closed his eyes and turned his face away. He took a slow breath, so Kaito waited patiently for the sentence to come out. “One year... ago... I … can't prove... anything...”

“But you're the KID Killer! I've never seen you stuck for long on a case. It's spooky how fast you put everything together. There's no way that some killer could be good enough to...” The furious look on Conan's face made him stop.

“Remember … the train?”

Recognition hit Kaito like one of those horrible soccer-balls. “Those guys?” he almost yelled, jumping up. He could almost feel the heat the of the explosion on his back again.

“Don't panic.” His small, clammy hand gestured as though he was telling a dog to 'Sit!'

He closed his eyes, re-securing his poker face over the broiling terror inside. When he had calmed down again, he opened his eyes, and studied the pathetic little form in front of him. “So, what's the prognosis? You're not on your deathbed, or anything, right? They didn't manage to murder you, right?”

Smiling, the little devil fell back into the pillows with a moan. “No... not yet. This... is from... an anti-... dote...”

Kaito sunk back onto his box. He half thought to himself, half whispered, “What kind of poison would be worth an antidote that does this?”

A hissing chuckle answered him.

“No seriously,” he said louder. “What could be not as bad as pneumonia? I haven't seen you seem poisoned or all that ill even; you've always been energetic and a pain in my ass.” He met the half closed eyes, which were laughing at some obvious joke that he should have gotten.

“You never... tried to... find my... real name?” Conan gurgled. “I found... yours... ages ago... I gave... you hints...”

“Why? You're just you, why would a little kid need a pseudonym?”

“Train.”

He smacked his head. “Oh, yeah, right. I guess, since I'm here now, you can just tell me?”

That wicked little half-smile was back.

“Another hint?” he plead.

Conan liked being dominate, and the pride at having beaten Kaitou KID yet again clearly showed on his pale face. “You look... a lot like... the real... me.”

“You mean this face?” He tapped his chin.

Conan grinned. “We could... be twins...”

There was a knock, and the door popped open. The nurse from before was leading an old woman who had a white lab-coat on over her scrubs.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said kindly. “Conan dear, it's time to check on your progress.”

He rolled his eyes at the magician sitting on his box. “Tomorrow?”

Kaito grinned. “Sure thing, buddy.” He turned to the stunned medical staff. “Can I come again after school?”

They nodded dumbly.

“Well, Conan, it was a pleasure talking to you. I'll leave my 'dumb clown' props behind next time, and I'll have your riddle figured out.” He got up, bowed with a grand sweep of an imaginary white cape, and tipped an invisible top hat as he gathered his box. There were other children waiting for his performance, after all.

Out in the hall, the nurse leading him to his next client asked, “How did you manage it? No one likes that nosy brat. Not even his family visits him.”

Kaito secured his poker face, resisting the urge to suggest that it wasn't all Conan's fault. Instead, he smiled. “He tried to chase me off at first, but I gave him a puzzle to solve. Did you know that he's ridiculously smart?”

The nurse shrugged. “He's a kid.”

Condescending asshole. No wonder Conan tormented him. “Have you heard of the little kid who was able to prevent Kaitou KID from getting away with the treasure every time he's allowed to participate? That's him. He's able to do what a whole police taskforce has managed only a handful of times, and he does it every time.”

“Really?” He turned to watch Conan in his plastic tent being rolled down the empty hallway with a mixture of awe and confusion on his face. “I'd heard that some little kid had beaten Kaitou KID, but I don't really follow that stuff.”

“So, for a kid like that, to be so sick, trapped here, bored out of his mind... I'll bet he started telling you about everything you thought you were managing to hide, right?”

The nurse scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously.

“So, give him the most difficult, complex detective novels you can find, and he'll stop deducing all of your private secrets. And let me visit him every day. I've got some rapport with him.”

“Kuroba,” the nurse said hesitantly, “You're really good with kids. But, don't get too attached to Conan.”

He wrinkled his brow. “Why?”

“With cases, complex cases, when the patient is already so weak, you have to prepare yourself for the worst. It's awful, but kids like him sometimes just don't make it.”

Kaito stopped walking, clutching his box to his chest. “Is that why no one talks to him or visits him? You're bracing for his death?” His poker-face cracked, and words escaped through his clenched jaw.

The nurse grabbed Kaito's shoulder and gently squeezed it, a halfhearted attempt at comforting him. “It's no use getting mad. These things happen. Hey,” he crouched a little to look straight into Kaito's downcast eyes. “If you need to, you can go home for now, and think about all of this. You're not the first person to realize how indifferent the universe is to human suffering.”

Kaito nodded dumbly, and turned to leave.

He already knew this. He learned it when he lost his father at the tender age of eight. But, to be facing death so young, with no one to support him?

Stupid universe.


	2. Cheating

For once, Kaito was in no way involved in the classroom mayhem. Today, it was Koizumi. That morning she’d stepped into the classroom and freaked out, yelling about “low level demon scum” and “stinking miasma!” Her headdress jangled as she chanted in some long lost tongue and waved a bundle of burning sage that choked the air with incense. Anyone even slightly inclined to liking women was wandering around the classroom trying to be helpful in some way. Even Aoko was laying pieces of paper with “Evil be gone!” scrawled on them on the windowsills.

Kaito ignored it all, opting instead to skim the titles of articles on his phone. He was trying to research Conan's illness. Immunodeficiency was usually a symptom of something else, he found. There was a surprising number of conditions that could cause a temporary weakening of one's immune-system. He was immersed in an article describing how HIV worked when someone waved their big, annoying hand in his face.

“Buzz off, Hakuba,” he muttered.

“I'm curious,” Hakuba said, sitting down at Aoko's desk, beside him. “Why have you been researching AIDS all morning? Usually I see you checking the news for articles about Kaitou KID.”

Kaito closed his phone, and turned to face Hakuba. He was still undecided between flipping the chair and making the prick fall on his ass, or asking him for help.

Seeing his hesitation, Hakuba said, “I heard from Keiko that you've been performing for long-term patients at the Haido hospital. Did something happen?” His expression was uncharacteristically gentle. “A much better use of your talents, in my opinion,” he added, under his breath.

Kaito sighed and set down his cellphone. “There's this little kid I met yesterday. He's really smart, someone who should have a bright future. But...” he trailed off, his anger choking him.

“I can fill in the gaps,” Hakuba almost sounded sympathetic. His usual smirk was nowhere to be found. “That's horrible. At least you're doing something to help make whatever time he has left more enjoyable, right? Why don't you focus on that?”

Perhaps Hakuba was putting in an effort to not be an asshole for once. Or it was part of a long-con. But for this, what would the harm be?

“It's not that so much. I knew that going in. It's just that,” he bit his lip. “It's like everyone's trying to forget him. He doesn't get visitors anymore. I didn't see any get-well presents or cards. He's really lonely, angry, and vindictive. He spent most of the time I was there teasing me for not being as smart as he was.”

Conan's riddle surfaced in his memory. He'd never particularly felt he needed to know Conan's real identity, but now that he'd been commanded to figure it out, he might as well probe Hakuba's brain. “By the way, he gave me a mystery that I've been trying to figure out, but I'm not a detective.”

Hakuba laughed. “You want to cheat so you can beat the kid?”

“It's not cheating,” he grumbled, “it's just using all of the resources at one's disposal.”

Hakuba waved Kaito on, flicking his fingers as though he was turning the page of a book. His eyes narrowed, eager to see what puzzle could trip up the great Kaitou KID.

“There's a detective who looks like he could be my twin, who is the son of an actress, and probably has been missing for a while.”

Hakuba barely took a moment to think about it. “You mean Shinichi Kudou? What about him?”

Kaito blinked. “How did you figure that out so fast?”

He shrugged. “It's easy if you're already familiar with the case. I poked around it when I was invited to take his place at a detective-tournament. That was almost a year ago, and he'd been missing since before that. I hit a wall in the investigation as soon as I started asking questions. There isn't even an official missing person's report filed, and my dad got a call from some FBI agent threatening me with official obstruction charges if I kept poking around. So, what was the kid's mystery?” He leaned on his elbow, watching Kaito carefully.

“Wait, how old is Shinichi Kudou? I thought he was our age,” Kaito flipped open his smartphone again, to type in the name.

“He is,” Hakuba confirmed before Kaito could finish typing. “He was even on my list of Kaito KID suspects before I honed in on you.”

The pieces slid into place. He'd been poisoned a year ago by some kind of crime syndicate. He was freaky smart for a kid. He was willing to try potentially life-threatening antidotes to reverse it. Conan Edogawa and Shinichi Kudou were the same person. That meant there was something that could turn a teenager into a small child. Immortality from a gem stone was suddenly less implausible. He could feel the blood draining from his face. At some point he must've stopped breathing, because he was getting light-headed.

Hakuba's voice called him back to reality. “Hey! HEY!” He shook Kaito's shoulder. “What's wrong? Are you feeling ill? Is the sage smoke bothering you?”

He reached up to feel his own forehead, but noticed that his hand was shaking, and put it back down, clenched. “No, I just figured it all out. Come with me to the roof, and I'll tell you about it.”

They left the classroom, stepping around Akako and her zombie-slave-boys who were stapling sage branches around the doorway.

As Kaito wobbled down the hallway, half towed by Hakuba, more pieces fell together. That bastard already knew his identity, and therefore likely knew Hakuba was his classmate. Conan knew he was probably going to die. He didn't want the people who murdered him to get away with it. He'd just asked Kaito and Hakuba to avenge his murder.

“That bastard,” Kaito muttered. “I can't believe I just walked right into that.”

“At some point you're going to have to explain what's going on,” Hakuba said, leaning Kaito against the wall while he opened the door. “Great,” he said after scanning the roof. “No one's here.”

“Good,” Kaito answered. “Before I explain anything, I have a question. Do you remember Conan Edogawa?” he plopped himself down on the roof.

Hakuba sat down beside him, not letting his eyes leave Kaito for a second. “Is he the kid you were talking about?”

He nodded.

“Of course I do. He's an unnerving child, isn't he? From what I've been able to find out,” he closed his eyes, like he was reading a file behind his eyelids. “He's living under an alias. He doesn't have proper paperwork filed, and I couldn't find birth records. He's extremely manipulative and intelligent, and he's attention starved, likely neglected before he left home. It'd explain why he seems to prefer living with Kogorou's abuse instead of finding a more suitable home – he couldn't poke around investigations and play detective otherwise.”

“There's nothing play-like about what that sadistic bastard does. Do you know how he likes to deal with Kaitou KID? Not by catching him, by putting him in the hospital. I can't believe I just felt empathy for that psycho!”

Hakuba's eyebrows arched. He seemed genuinely concerned – none of his tells were showing. “He's put you in the hospital?”

Kaito ignored that insinuation. “He just manipulated me into asking you to look into a case for him.”

“Let me guess, Shinichi Kudou's case?”

“Yeah,” Kaito grit his teeth. “He put me smack in the middle of it, without me even knowing what the fuck was happening.”

“Well then,” the detective sighed, “I guess I have no choice. I'll have to take the case.”

“Are you serious?” Kaito almost yelled, but remembered to tone his voice down at the last second, nervously glancing at the door. “You haven't seen what the people who did it are like. They blew up the luggage car of the Bell-Tree Express, just so they could murder one of their ex-agents!”

“And Conan's been facing these monsters all by himself?” Hakuba's jaw was set, and his usually gentle brown eyes were as sharp as blades. He could feel them dissecting him for answers.

“They'll probably kill us. If they can do that to Shinichi freaking Kudou... I don't know how we could stand a chance.” He leaned back onto the chain-link fence, gazing up at the sky. “He's asking us to go on a suicide mission to avenge his murder, Hakuba. Hell, I'll probably be on the top of their hit list when they figure out...” he stopped, more pieces falling into place. “The creepy girl! Her too? I knew I recognized that voice!”

Hakuba crossed his arms. “I assume that at some point you're going to let me join this conversation you're having with yourself.”

“Sorry,” Kaito mumbled. “I don't really like being manipulated like this.”

His adversary snickered at his hypocrisy. “If I understand this right – Shinichi Kudou was murdered, and Conan Edogawa, who's been working the case for the past year, is dying, possibly at the hands of the same people. He wants us to take up the case.” He subconsciously rubbed his cheek, reddening it. “If he's passing his legacy onto us, that's quite the compliment, wouldn't you say?”

Kaito frowned. “He has a weird way of showing it.”

The chimes rang, announcing the beginning of the next period.

“Well, as a detective,” Hakuba said, standing up. “I'm eager to find the answer to the mystery of Shinichi Kudou's disappearance. I'll join you after school.” He glanced down at Kaito, who still wasn't moving. “I've never known Kaitou KID to back down from a challenge.” The corners of his lips growing heavy, he turned towards the door. “It's time for class, are you coming?”

Kaito sighed, then plastered his poker-face on securely. Time to face that sickening wall of “purifying” sage smoke and pretend it wasn’t bothering him to Koizumi’s zombie army.


	3. Darkened Rooms

Thunder clashed overhead, but Akako didn’t hurry her stride. Rain didn’t dare land on her. Or rather, the rain gods knew better than to allow a single drop to spoil her divine countenance. She was furious. The nerve of that low-level scum! The school was her hunting grounds, her territory. Those teenagers were hers to pluck, like popping strawberries in her mouth.

As she crossed the threshold of her mansion, the lanterns and torches flickered to life, and her uniform melted away to her ceremonial robes. Her mansion wasn’t in reality, so to speak. More like a pocket dimension that was under her complete control. She strolled past the gallery of portraits – made in many mediums: paint, ink, thread, crushed stone… all of them offerings to her beauty. Each one from a different moment in time; each one of a different incarnation, a different name uttered in breathless lust by a different artist. Scattered memories from her previous lives were all that remained of them, and these fair portraits.

Speaking of breathless lust… Aoko had surprised her, helping out so readily. It had been a while since she last tasted a maiden. There was divine symmetry in their names: Red and Blue. She licked her lips at the thought. That would hurt Kuroba, leave him in agony! She paused at the top of the dungeon stairs, shuddering with anticipation. Now she really wanted to do it. Kuroba didn’t deserve a sweet morsel like Aoko anyways.

But, even she could see the problem with her plan. Kuroba had a way of fowling up her magic. Even if it worked on him for a moment, he’d end up shaking off her spell. He effortlessly evaded her control. He might be able to destroy her hold on Aoko too. She’d seen him negate her love-spells on others – like Hakuba. The tall boy had followed her with his big, soft brown eyes like a puppydog, but then he’d started carrying a strand of Kuroba’s hair in his pocket, and her power over him piddled out at only the barest of suggestion. It was infuriating. She thrust the doors to her summoning chamber open, letting them strike the walls with a tremendous noise.

It wouldn’t take much, she figured. Just a summoning circle entwined with an entrapment spell. She threw a handful of chalk into the air, and the fine grit fell into place, forming the plain interlocking circles. Then she flung her handkerchief into the circles, still moist with the slime she’s found on her school chair (HER chair!). The spells leapt to life, infernal flames churning and stealing some squealing wretch from the world. The room filled with smoke and the scent of decaying flesh. In the murk, a cage appeared, signaling the completion of the two spells. A wave of her hand condensed the pollution into a single, hard ball, that dropped harmlessly into the waste paper basket.

From the gloom immerged a truly pitiful thing. A renfield, she diagnosed. Its flesh was already starting to decay, skin turned mottled purple. It had been neglected a long time. Vampires were vile monsters, to leave their servants in such a state. An eerie whine escaped its swollen lips, droll dribbling uncontrollably down its chin, joining a fowl streak of putrid mucus on its chest.

“Who owns you?” she asked, her voice soft as the scent of violets.

Its dull eyes gazed at her with insatiable lust, lust it would never be able to act on. “Higure.”

That took her aback. Higure wasn’t known as a cruel vampire. He’d led the charge for adjusting to modernity. The bloodsucker was one of the more civic-minded of the monsters, realizing that they’d have to hide from humans and their technology. It had been Higure that had established the council which decided territories for the various supernatural creatures’ appetites, including hers. He was known to be a peace broker, and rigidly kept to the laws, until now.

“Why were you in my territory?” She added a little smile, like a gift to the poor thing.

“We need a Null.” It interlaced its fingers in the wire of its cage, trying in vain to get a little closer.

A Null was something very, very difficult to find. They were mostly human, but they negated all magic around them. How could you find one without casting a spell on every single human? A flame kindled in her chest. They couldn’t be talking about… but it’d make sense… but he was _hers_!

“Why do you need a Null?” She stepped closer.

It whimpered, falling back from the cage wall. “A mutation!” the little thing gurgled. “It’s killed over two hundred people in Beika alone.”

She stepped back. Whatever mutated monster this was, it didn’t need a Null. It needed an exorcist, demon hunter, or a slayer. “Tell Higure that the Null is mine,” she commanded. “Just kill the beast that’s killing his prey.”

The renfield was sobbing now, falling to its rotting knees. She dismissed the creature, sending it back to its master.

\---

The hallway leading to Conan's room was darker than the rest of the hospital. The other rooms that attached to the hallway were vacant, their doors left open, nothing but their cold silence watching them as they passed.

Hakuba pulled his jacket closer around his broad shoulders. “Do you feel that?” he whispered in the empty hall. “It's like we’re entering a crime scene.”

Kaito opened the door to Conan's room and ushered Hakuba in.

Conan's lips weren't as blue as they had been the day before, at least, that's what Kaito's optimism was telling him. Hakuba halted and stiffened up when he laid eyes on the little form. The room was echoing with the sound of labored breathing. Kaito’s own chest tightened sympathetically. The mass of tubes and wires attached to the still form suffocated and restrained him. There were more of those than Kaito remembered.

“Is he asleep?” Hakuba said in a low voice to Kaito.

With that, Conan stirred. His chubby little hand reached out, and hit the button to put the bed in a sitting position but slipped off because his small finger was slick with sweat. He gave up and lay back. To compensate, Hakuba and Kaito came to his bedside. Now that Kaito was closer, he could see that Conan's neck was swollen and a fever-rash had spread across his chest. Conan himself was drenched in sweat. His blood pumped to the surface of his skin to cool him down, darkening his skin with a corpse-like purple tinge because his lungs weren't fully functioning yet. His eyes opened a sliver, and a broad smile broke across his face.

“You figured... it ou-” his speech was interrupted by a rough coughing fit that shook his entire body.

It was hard to hate someone who looked so pitiful. “Yeah, Kudou, I figured it out. And I brought Hakuba, like you wanted.”

“Cheater,” snickered the impossible child.

“Wait a moment,” Hakuba said, holding his hand up. “You just called Conan 'Kudou.'”

“Congrats, mystery solved,” Kaito said, thoroughly enjoying watching Hakuba struggle to put the pieces together. “Shinichi Kudou was poisoned by a mysterious crime-syndicate and left for dead, and they accidentally turned him into the most annoying seven-year-old to walk the planet. Then he ropes a poor, unsuspecting magician into pretending to be some lady they're trying to kill, and that benevolent, kind, innocent magician almost gets blown up instead.”

Conan's weak voice rasped out an angry reply, “You're forgetting... Shinichi Kudou... has to pretend ...he's someone else... even to his... own friends. His... whole life... ripped away... dead... Only a child-like... ghost... is left... Their spies... closing in... been kidnapped... almost killed... so many... times... at least... you get to... keep your body... and your life.” His hands gripped and twisted the bedsheets.

Kaito and Hakuba fell silent, letting the horror of what had happened to him sink in. With no response, the harsh little voice went on, “I want... you to find... out what happened... to the Mouris… and Hattori... They didn't leave... me alone... when I was... in the hospital... before... Something must... be wrong.” He looked up at the two teens before him. “Please,” he added.

“It'd be our pleasure,” Hakuba said with a little bow. “We'll return tomorrow with our findings.”

“Thank you,” Conan said. He closed his eyes, falling almost instantly back into his fevered sleep. Kaito could have sworn he heard a soft, “Don't die,” added on as they left.

Hakuba fled, not stopping until they were on the street. “If I believed in ghosts,” Hakuba started, his face pale. He scrutinized Kaito a moment, who was catching up to Hakuba's long-leg stride. “You didn't feel that at all, did you?”

Kaito shrugged. “Are you talking about how sick he is?”

“No.” Hakuba resumed walking, this time keeping a slower pace so Kaito could walk comfortably beside him. “I mean the hallway. It's all empty, even though the rest of that wing is pretty crowded. It was dirty too, so they haven't been letting the janitor down there. It hit me when we got near – a feeling of deep unease, like there was something foul in the air, but I couldn't smell it.” He stopped briefly to kick a rock down the sidewalk.

“If he really was so sick, then why isn't he in the ICU?” His voice was growing softer as he was becoming more and more lost in his thoughts.

Kaito interrupted, “What do you mean, 'if he really is so sick'?”

Hakuba arched his brow. “You didn't notice? Conan-” he stopped, and shook his head. “I mean, _Kudou_ isn't ill enough to be in that plastic tent. He's miserable sure, but his body is fighting the infection.”

“You're not a doctor,” Kaito pointed out.

He nodded. “Of course not, and there may be something I'm missing,” he admitted. “But, Co- _Kudou_ had a fever and swollen lymph nodes. His immune system is doing its job. And he didn't need most of the machines connected to him. Those were there mostly so they wouldn't have to open up his clean-room tent, which he doesn't need. It's like they're trying to quarantine him without officially quarantining him, which makes no sense.”

“That'll be something to ask the Mouris, I guess,” Kaito said. He took a quick last glance at the hospital, and found to his surprise he could easily pick out Kudou's hospital room because it was amid a line of dark windows.

“The tent too… I could have sworn it was tinted blue. His face is probably flushed red with the fever, but we couldn't see it.” Hakuba stopped suddenly. “The rash, the swollen throat, those symptoms also match an allergic reaction. I think...” he paused to grit his teeth and swallow back some anger. “I think someone is going to great pains to make it look like he's sick, and hiding him from any casual observer.”

Kaito gaped, feeling the blood drain from his face. Then, he realized a small nugget of information that didn't match that assertion. “Then why did they bring me over to cheer him up?”

“Good point,” Hakuba admitted. Even so, the worry didn't leave his tense face. “Unless you're a target too, for some reason.”

Kaito swallowed heavily.

“But,” Hakuba said suddenly in an uncharacteristic cheerful tone, “we're probably making conclusions with too little information. 'It's all a big conspiracy' is almost never the correct answer. Maybe our bias of not wanting Kudou to be sick and dying is clouding our reasoning.”

The magician nodded, not sure which conclusion he should hope was the right one.


	4. Out of Character

It was nearing suppertime when they finally made it to the Mouri Detective Agency, as neither of them were familiar with Beika's streets. The light was still on, and they could see Detective Mouri dozing in his chair, watching TV through the window. They couldn't quite make out the individual words, but Ran Mouri was yelling at her father, from somewhere out of sight in the apartment.

“Well, it looks like they're fine,” Kaito said, staring up at the window.

Hakuba nodded. “But, it's out of character for them to leave Conan all alone in the hospital for so long. You said that the nurses had noticed it too?”

“Yeah.”

“Let's go up then,” Hakuba said, pushing Kaito up before him.

“Why do I have to go first?” he hissed.

“Because you've disguised yourself as both of them, and I've only met Ran. Besides, you look like someone they know, right?”

“I'm not pretending to be Shinichi Kudou,” Kaito whispered as they neared the door. “That name kinda has a death sentence attached to it, you know!”

“Fine,” Hakuba said back. He straightened out his school uniform and knocked on the door with a succession of sharp strokes.

They heard Mr. Mouri's voice yelling, “Ran, get the door!”

“But you're right there!” Ran yelled back, stomping her way to them. She practically ripped the door off its hinges, and yelled, “What do you want? It's almost dinnertime!” Then she stopped, and stared directly at Kaito, frozen. “Shinichi?” she whispered, her voice catching as though she was about to cry. He stepped back, hands up. This was becoming an even worse idea by the second. She ran forward and wrapped her arms around him, making him freeze at the unexpected physical contact. Kaito tried to squirm out of her arms, which was difficult with Ran's surprising amount of upper-body strength.

“He's a classmate of mine; he's definitely not Kudou!” Hakuba tried to push them apart, but Ran had to strong a hold on Kaito's torso.

“I'm sorry, I'm really not your friend,” Kaito plead.

She stopped and studied his face for a moment, her own face nearly brushing Kaito's. He looked back into her eyes, gentle brown, but bloodshot from crying. She gasped and jumped back like she'd been slapped, tears starting to leak down her cheeks. “I'm sorry; you just look so much like him...” she wiped the tears from her reddening face and asked, “Would you like to come in?”

Bowing graciously, they accepted her offer.

A few minutes later, they were sipping tea quietly in the living room, watching Mr. Mouri down canned beer after canned beer. Ran emerged from the kitchen with some cookies artfully arranged on a plate and sat down to join them. She'd taken a moment to wash the tear-trails from her face, though her eyes were still red, and she'd neglected to re-apply her make-up. Kaito remembered when he'd disguised himself as her. It'd been surprisingly easy. They were the same height, and he'd needed only a small amount of latex additions. Her brow was a little softer than his, and her nose a little more pronounced. Wearing a stuffed C-cup bra had been a lot of fun too, not that he'd admit it. Jumping into the ocean half-naked and getting the flu afterwards hadn't been very fun.

Ran's voice brought him back to reality. “So, how can we help you?”

Hakuba set down his tea cup and leaned forward slightly, glancing at Kaito, indicating that he'd take charge. “I'll be brief, Miss Mouri. Conan asked us to come and visit you, and make sure that you're alright. He's worried because he hasn't seen you in a while.”

Mr. Mouri stood up and stomped out of the room the moment the name “Conan” left Hakuba's lips. They flinched as he slammed every door between them and his bedroom upstairs.

“You don't know?” Ran asked, looking back and forth between them, confused. “I thought everyone in the police force knew by now; they even brought in Inspector Nakamori to testify...”

“We're still minors, so I guess they left us out,” Hakuba said softly, playing the flirty gentle giant that always managed to get under Kaito's skin, like ticks, or those bamboo slivers that are too small to see but hurt like fuck. “Could you enlighten us?”

“Someone filed a complaint anonymously against Dad, saying that he was abusing Conan.” She closed her eyes, to hold back another outburst. “They had no real evidence! The judge just took all of this flimsy testimony without proof from a lot of people who we've never seen before – not a single doctor! Just this psychologist who has never even laid eyes on Conan. He told us that Conan's behavior indicates that he's likely been abused and neglected all his life, so he wouldn't know that what Dad was doing was wrong, even though he's really smart and perceptive. I tried to defend Dad by testifying too, but they ignored everything I said! Conan didn't get to testify at all either, because he was too sick to be interviewed! And all of this when he just needs us to be there, watching over him!” Ran was ranting now, all sense of decorum lost, her private feelings pouring out uncontrollably.

Hakuba lifted her clenched fist, enveloping it in his broad palms. “So, Conan's a ward of the state now, isn't he?”

Ran paused to catch her breath, nodding. “The judge just decreed it. Mom thinks that the judge was on someone's payroll, because they had no proof.”

“And they've banned everyone from seeing him?” Kaito added.

“They won't even let Professor Agasa or Hattori visit, because they've banned anyone who tried to defend Dad.”

“That sounds harsh,” Kaito said. He fiddled with the hem of his uniform, thinking. If there was abuse going on, he hadn't noticed it. Conan didn't seem like what he thought someone surviving abuse would be like, but maybe that was useless stereotypes muddying the water. He'd never seen Mr. Mouri strike Conan, but then again, he hadn't pried very far into their private lives, since he was disguising himself as them for only a brief period of time. Most of the Mr. Mouri he played was what he got from his television appearances. What he'd gotten from his interactions between them was – Conan, or rather, Shinichi thought of Mr. Mouri like a big, dumb elephant, and that he absolutely adored Ran.

“Conan will be relieved to hear that everyone is healthy and unharmed,” Hakuba was saying as Kaito surfaced from his thoughts. “When you stopped coming, I think he feared the worst.”

Kaito interrupted, “What if we sneak Ran in?”

They looked up at him in surprise.

“Conan's well enough to have guests. I could dress Ran up in a simple disguise and she could visit him after school with us. What do you think?”

“You'd do that for me?” Ran asked, her face brightening up.

“Sure!” Kaito exclaimed. “It'd be easy. Just fix your hair, a little bit of make-up, change out of your school-uniform, some adult shoes and a pretty scarf... your own dad won't recognize you.”

“You're a guy, how would you know how-” Ran protested.

“It'll be easy for him, seeing as he's probably Kaitou KID,” Hakuba laughed, dodging Kaito's vain attempts to cover his mouth.

Arms folded, Ran sat back, watching the struggle. “That'd explain why you're nosing around,” she said. “Kaitou KID does have some sort of weird obsession with my family.”

“Does not!” Kaito objected. “You guys just happen to be in the middle of everything, making you convenient disguises.”

“Finally admitting it?” Hakuba smirked.

“I say that as Kaitou KID's number one fan, of course,” Kaito retorted. “Besides, we're here for Conan, let's focus on that.”

The detective sighed, dropping his hands. He turned to Ran. “Shall we meet in a public restroom in Haido Park after school? You'll have space to change clothes, and Kaito can work on your make-up.”

Ran nodded fervently.

After they'd said their good-byes and started towards home, Hakuba interrupted the uneasy silence growing between them. “You know what I said earlier, about Conan's putting up with Mr. Mouri's abuse?”

“Yeah,” Kaito said, eying a ramen shop across the street.

“I was half-joking, but it was based off of rumors I'd heard around Section 2.”

“What, you think he really was being abused?” Kaito asked.

“Maybe.” Hakuba kicked a pebble down the street, frowning. “I hate cases like this. They're so murky. When you're an outsider, how can you tell if what you're seeing is abuse or discipline? It's all about things going on inside people's minds, and that's just about impossible to prove one way or the other. Mr. Mouri has a reputation for being rough with Conan while trying to keep him out of crime scenes, which could be argued is for the best, because no child should ever see those horrors. After all, he has no idea that Conan isn't a child. He probably thinks he's acting responsibly. Can that be called abuse?”

“Maybe it's about the action itself,” Kaito reasoned. “Mr. Mouri has struck Conan in public, before witnesses – that seems to be the only fact that's not in question.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” Hakuba grumbled. “You keep looking at the ramen stand; do you want to stop there?”

“Yeah,” Kaito admitted.

“I'll call Granny; she can pick us up here. I'll give you a lift home.” He pulled out his cellphone.

“That'd be awesome, thanks!” Kaito said, grinning. “We make a good team, when you're not accusing me of felonies.”

Hakuba ignored the jibe as he talked to the old lady he called “Granny.”

They ate in silence, too deep in their thoughts to chat. After fishing out the last of the noodles from the briny broth, Kaito broke the silence.

“I think you should drop this case,” he said quietly.

Hakuba's eyebrows rose. “Which case? I thought we just solved it.”

Kaito rolled his eyes. “I know you're going to try to track down the people who poisoned Kudou.”

Judging from Hakuba's silence, he was right. He continued, “Kudou is a terrifying guy to have as an enemy. These people have evaded capture for an entire year with him as their enemy.”

The noodles Hakuba was clumsily trying to stuff into his mouth with disposable pine chopsticks escaped again. Glowering, he bit back, “Like you have?”

“Don't start that again,” Kaito muttered.

“Then again, you're pretty harmless in comparison to people who try to murder teenagers. He probably doesn't see you as a priority.”

“I'm leaving.” Kaito walked back to the cart and dropped off the bowl still holding a cupful of steaming, salty liquid.

Hakuba made one last try at fishing some noodles out of the broth, then ran after Kaito. “Wait! I wasn't trying to upset you.”

“No, you're just trying to get me arrested, even when we're trying to help out a mutual friend in an absurdly dangerous situation, which you seem to have no comprehension of.”

He caught up, breathing heavily. “I DO comprehend it. I've never been the focus of Kudou's attack, but I've seen him in action, and I studied all of the police reports of his battles with you. I understand that he's really intelligent, and that he's basically treating you like a catch and release thief for his own amusement, and you mentioned something about him putting you in the hospital multiple times. I'm not going to try to arrest you while we work on this case, okay?”

Kaito stopped and spun around. “Then stop telling everyone we meet I'm Kaitou KID.”

“Then I won't.” he crossed his arms and looked down his long nose. “I'll swear I won't investigate Kaitou KID anymore, and I won't help or harm your Kaitou KID operation in any way... IF you admit to me that you're Kaitou KID right now.”

Kaito stared up at Hakuba, confused. “Why?”

“The point of it is to solve the puzzle, not ruin peoples' lives. That's something I learned from Kudou, by the way. He's not as bad as you make him out to be.”

He considered this. Hakuba didn't seem to be lying. When he was lying or manipulating, he usually had a much smugger expression, and he hadn't spotted any of Hakuba's tells. Kaito took a deep breath, looked around to make sure they were out of earshot or in any surveillance cameras. “I'm a Kaitou KID copycat who's fooled the people who killed the last Kaitou KID into thinking that I'm him, and if I were ever unveiled, I'd probably end up at the bottom of the river wearing concrete shoes.”

“Well,” Hakuba said, stepping back, looking the way they'd come. “Let's go meet Granny. We still need to contact Hattori, if you're willing to see this through.”

Kaito gaped at the sudden, inconsequential change of topic. “You're really just going to drop this?”

Hakuba clenched his fist. “Of course I shan't!” His voice didn't sound at all prissy or annoying, more like something he'd seen in an old Samurai movie. Maybe that's where he'd picked the phrase up? Coming from an angry 190 cm giant, it was actually kind of intimidating.

Seeing no response from Kaito, he went on. “You're not stealing anything ever again, because I'll be forced to turn you in if you do.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a single strand of hair in a plastic evidence bag, carefully dated and stamped. “I took this sample this morning. It's of your hair. All I have to do is submit it for testing, and the DNA will be a perfect match for the hair I yanked out of Kaitou KID's head last year.”

Kaito made a swipe for it, snarling.

“I've collected over thirty samples of your hair already. You won't be able to find them all.”

“Why haven't you done anything about it?” Kaito just about howled. “Did you just want to blackmail me like Kudou does?” Something ugly twisted in his gut, made him want to hurt Hakuba somehow, no matter how petty. “You really are just _half_ the detective Kudou is, at least he was honest about it from the start.”

Hakuba's fist snapped out and in a moment, Kaito was lying on the pavement, trying to shake the bells out of his ears.

“Are you done?” Hakuba's voice came from above. That jab about his half-Japanese status must have sent him over the edge.

“Done.” Kaito struggled to his feet. The tall young man scowled down at him, massaging his fist. Something tickled Kaito's upper lip. He licked and tasted blood. His blood was on Hakuba's clenched hand too. “How's that for a DNA profile?” he grumbled. His head was still spinning a little, and he felt a hand on his shoulder suddenly grab him and keep him from tipping. Of course, it was Hakuba again.

“I'm sorry,” Hakuba said, his voice weirdly hoarse and restrained. “I just got really mad all of a sudden, I don't usually...”

“Fuck off.” Kaito batted away Hakuba's helping hands. “I'll get home on my own.”

He turned away and trudged down the street, back to the Ramen shop. Pulling out his cellphone, he plopped down.

“You alright?” the shopkeeper asked, peering out the door, looking for the assailant.

“I'm fine; it's nothing.”

The shopkeeper grabbed a first-aid kit from behind the counter, and pushed it into Kaito's face. “Are you sure? I can call the cops for you.”

Kaito accepted the box, but shook his head. “I'll be fine. It was my fault, anyways.” On his cell, he found the icon for speed-dialing Jii. What a great night this had turned out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm celebrating more progress on my book! The artwork is coming in and we've finished the hard part of the editing. It's going faster than I thought it would!


	5. An Anxious Raccoon

On the last bus of the night a tall, slender man sat in the seat next to the doors. The bus’s tire hit a pothole with a loud CRACK, and the man jumped from his seat, reaching into his baggy coat to a hidden inner pocket on his left side.

“You might not want to bring that out in here,” the bus driver said, one eye on his suspiciously jumpy passenger.

“It’s just a fountain pen,” the man said, pulling it out. His hand trembled, and he quickly returned it to its pocket. “Sorry, it was a bad day at work.”

The bus driver smiled knowingly. They pulled into another stop. The bus driver’s eyes lingered on the tall man’s pale gray scrubs. “You a doctor?”

The man shook his head. “Nurse.”

“Wanna unload while we wait? This is a timed stop, so we can’t leave for another five minutes.”

The nurse sat down, taking a few deep breaths. “Sure. I need to calm down before I get home anyways. I don’t want my daughter seeing me like this.”

The bus driver slipped his baseball cap off, used the rim to scratch an itch on the back of his balding scalp. “So what happened?”

The nurse took a few more deep breaths and rubbed his sweating palms on his scrubs. “A colleague of mine, someone I’ve worked with for years,” he paused to blink very hard. “She became an angel of death.”

The driver cocked his head, not sure what to make of the term. “A what?”

“It’s what we call someone who starts killing their patients.”

A minute of horrified silence settled over them.

At last the bus driver spoke. “Well, that sure as hell beats any of my bad days, and I’ve been robbed at knife-point twice.”

The thin man rubbed his sunken eyes, and the driver did his best to not notice.

When he’d caught his breath again, the man said, “Usually I can leave work at work, you know?”

A chime went off. “That’s my cue,” the bus driver said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his smartphone. “My name is Yusuke. If you wanna get a beer sometime and unwind.”

The man reached into his pants’ pocket to find his own phone, then stopped. “I don’t have my phone with me. May I?”

“Sure,” Yusuke said, checking the traffic before easing the bus back onto the road. At a stop sign, he turned on the screen and opened up the “new contact” window. “Just enter your name and number here.”

The man accepted the battered phone and typed his name in big blocky Katakana, and after a moment of thought, entered a phone number. He handed it back.

Yusuke’s eyes briefly scanned the phone before returning to the road. “Kuroe? That’s an unusual name.”

He shrugged.

“Nice to meet you Kuroe. Wish your daughter sweet dreams and take a nice long soak. That’s what I usually do.”

He gave a polite smile at the advice. “Nice to meet you too, Yusuke.” He looked out the window as they rounded a corner. “Let me out at the next stop.”

“You got it,” Yusuke the bus driver said. He kept an eye on Kuroe. He was relaxing in his seat. Good.

The bus driver could’ve sworn he heard his passenger muttering as his rested his head on the window, utterly drained. He couldn’t make out the words clearly, but it sounded like, “I’m charging that bastard Higure double.”

* * *

A raccoon. That's what Kaito's face looked like. Hakuba, that git, had broken Kaito's nose, which had given him two black eyes to match. From the look of it, you'd never guess that the fight he'd gotten into had ended with its first and last blow.

But, there were more important things to worry over than his face.

He hadn't gone home. Hakuba had finally tricked Kaito into confessing that he was KID, and he had no idea what or who could be waiting for him. Instead, he’d ended up at Jii’s dingy pool bar in the middle of the night. The old man had taken one look at Kaito’s battered mug and ushered Kaito up to his little studio apartment over his bar. The space was incredibly cramped, and Kaito hadn’t believed at first that anyone could actually live there. The majority of the room was taken up by a hand-carved work table. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, Jii had pulled on what appeared to be a simple rack of oven mitts and the table folded itself up into the wall. He had laid out a futon for Kaito beside his trundle bed, filling the small space again.

All this meant that there wasn't room for Kaito to sleep all day feeling sorry for himself. So he'd gotten up, and now was staring at his pitiful reflection, thinking about how his world was probably ending.

Aoko's heart was going to break when she heard. Did she already know? If she didn't already know, she would by now. It would be all over the news. He'd have to go into hiding, be lost to all of his friends who probably hated him now, be lost to the teachers that already hated him, be lost to the rivals who just wanted to use and expose him.

He meandered downstairs to the empty poolhall. It opened at noon, so he'd have to be gone by then. Jii was looking at something on his tablet, flicking through it with an intent look on his face.

“How bad is it?” Kaito asked, not sure if he wanted an answer.

The old man's eyebrows rose. “Six people dead, twelve injured.”

Kaito blinked, uncomprehending.

Jii studied Kaito's face a moment, then went on, “Nothing about KID. There was an incident at a hospital. A nurse went on a rampage, administered poison in the IVs of a bunch of patients.”

Relief flooded Kaito, followed by a hailstorm of guilt. He leaned on the counter, letting the emotions fade and waiting for his legs to stop feeling like jelly. “Nothing about KID at all?”

“You are correct. I don't think that Detective Hakuba has told anyone.” He took down a chair from the table where it had been stacked. “Little Master, would you like breakfast? I can warm some leftovers up for you.”

Kaito plopped down in the chair, nodding. As he watched Jii vanish into the kitchens, a sudden, horrible thought struck him like Hakuba's fist. “Which hospital?” he called.

Jii's voice echoed, sounding tinny from being echoed in the walk-in cooler. “Haido City Hospital.”

His heart sank. Kudou's almost supernatural ability to end up right in the middle of things meant that he was likely one of the victims, or he had led the police to the killer. He better not be dead or injured. Kaito didn't know what he would do if Kudou died this way: murdered and under the wrong name. Kaito wasn't particularly superstitious and wasn't certain if he believed in ghosts, but something about being buried under the wrong name made his hackles rise. He shook off the image of Kudou's spirit doomed to wander forever, unable to find its own grave.

The microwave made a jarring DING, announcing that Kaito's meal was complete. A moment later, Jii was striding around the corner, Kaito's breakfast in hand. It was a simple soup, full of over-cooked vegetables and salted too heavily.

As he blew over his soup, trying to cool it down, Jii pulled up a chair beside him.

“When you're done, I want you to go to school. If that detective is there, you can figure out if he'll tell anyone, or convince him not to.”

“You've really heard nothing?” Kaito asked.

Seeing that he needed to further soothe Kaito's fears, Jii elaborated, “It's not that I've heard nothing. According to the surveillance cameras in the police station, Detective Hakuba hasn't been in the police station since your fight. Inspector Nakamori's behavior hasn't changed, there's been no rise in activity in the Kaitou KID task force at all. That boy didn't rat you out.”

Only the top portion of the soup had warmed, Kaito found. He stirred the rest of it together and drank it down, like the bowl was one large cup.

“Thanks,” Kaito said. He meant it. He meant it with his every fiber. “You've helped me so much.”

Jii stood up like he was twenty years younger, a smile on his creased face. “Your father did the same for me.”

* * *

He arrived a period late to class, and received a crowd of stares and “Whoa! Didja gedina fight?” He glanced at Hakuba, but the guilty party looked away when their eyes met.

“It’s nothing,” he said, making sure his bravado swagger was in full gear. “You should see the other guy’s fist!”

The girls giggled and the boys cheered like he was their conquering hero. Hakuba got up and stormed out for the rest of the break, so Kaito sidled up to Aoko, who was pointedly ignoring him.

“Getting into fights isn’t cool, dumbass,” she mumbled after Kaito put his battered face in front of hers, only a few centimeters apart. She put her hand on his face and pushed him away. Her hand smelled like peach hand-lotion. He held back the urge to lick it. His face had enough purple spots on it. For now.

He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I know. And I totally lost the fight too. All this?” he waved his hand over his face. “The dude did it in one punch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So why did the guy punch you?”

“You know I’ve never been that great at keeping my mouth shut.” He bit his lip and looked down. “Let’s just say I deserved it and leave it at that.”

“So you learned your lesson?” she asked, arms crossed.

Hakuba reentered the classroom with the history teacher right behind him, and their conversation was cut short as they stood and bowed to the teacher.

The next break between classes, Kaito darted after Hakuba, ignoring requests from his classmates for a blow-by-blow version of the action. The long-legged guy was already at the end of the hall by the time Kaito have struggled past their classmates, and he had to run to catch up. Hakuba responded by sprinting up the stairs.

He called Hakuba’s name, but he was ignored. A final burst of speed and Kaito grabbed Hakuba’s arm, forcing him to stop. “I need to-” he panted, “talk about last night.”

“I’m sorry,” Hakuba said, his voice barely audible. He jerked his arm, trying to free himself, but Kaito held on fast. Hakuba’s shoulders slumped and his arm fell lax. “Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s go to the roof, I guess. Let go of me before anyone gets the wrong idea.”

Kaito released the arm, raising his own in a sign of submission. He followed Hakuba to the roof in silence.

Bitter cold drizzle and a sharp breeze ensured that no one else was there. Hakuba still wouldn’t meet Kaito’s eyes. He stood in the unpleasant weather without attempting to protect himself from it, as though he deserved it.  His eyes stayed fixed on the ground.

“I shouldn’t have hit you. I don’t know why I did, I just got really angry, and it just happened.”

“You said something like that last night,” Kaito said. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Hakuba interrupted him, continuing with his apology. “I didn’t know I had that sort of violence in me; I thought I was above it.”

“I knew you did,” Kaito interjected, his frustration starting to mount. There was a more pressing, life-altering discussion he needed right now. “You forget how we met. You tried to drug me.”

“That’s different!” Hakuba snapped. “That was a calculated tactic, and I was trying to catch a thief! I didn’t do it because I was mad at you. I did that because it was my job. Punching you – I did that because…” his voice faltered.

“I was being an asshole,” Kaito said. The sooner they got past this the sooner he could get to the important part of the conversation. “I made a racist comment while trying to rile you up, and it worked. It wasn’t all your fault.”

“You aren’t the first!” Hakuba’s voice was breaking, and a tear leaked onto his face. He roughly wiped it away, looking up. His eyes were red, his lips bloodless, showing a deep pain that Kaito had no idea was there. “You have no idea what I deal with daily! The teachers treat me like I’m retarded; everyone looks at me as though I’m this magical multi-colored alien that bamfed out of nowhere, even though I was born in Japan! I was bullied so much as a kid that my parents moved me to England to live with my mother’s family, and there, I didn’t fit in either! People were just as racist there, just in different ways. There’s no place for me, and I’m reminded that constantly.”

Kaito felt winded, as though Hakuba had punched him again. Guilt was chewing up his ability to speak. His mouth opened and shut uselessly.

“But I deal with that all the time, and all of that is a reflection of other people’s failings, not mine. Hitting you, however, that was my failing. I pride myself in holding myself to a higher standard than the people treating me with inequity, and I failed last night.”

Something clicked, like a perfect fitting part of a contraption sliding into place. To Hakuba, Kaito being KID wasn’t a big, earth-shattering revelation. It didn’t matter much compared to failing to keep his temper in check, losing control. Hakuba needed control over his life, over his actions to feel sane.

“If you want to press charges…”

“Hold it!” Kaito found his voice. “I’m not going to do that. Like I said, it was partly my fault for provoking you. I forgive you for punching an asshole. Anyways,” he shifted his weight to his other foot. It was getting colder by the minute up there. “What are you going to do about me being KID?”

Hakuba shrugged, hugging himself. He walked back to the shelter of the doorway. “Nothing. I already knew.”

“Can’t you prove it now?” Kaito asked, looking at Hakuba’s bandaged hand.

“Yes. But I won’t. I do have a request though.” Hakuba looked down his long nose at Kaito, a small frown lingering as he spoke. “Don’t do any more heists. When you do, you put me in the position of having to choose between your safety and the law, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that. I’m enough of a hypocrite as it is. I don’t think I can handle many more contradictions.”

He mulled that over. There was a goal to his KID act. Some part of it was for the fun, the rush of it, the crowds, the mental exercise, the adrenaline ripping his cares away and turning them into pure euphoria. But, he could get that from performing. “I will if you help me find the people who murdered my father.”

“Your father?” Kaito could just see the cogs whirring in the detective’s head, but the chimes announcing the next period rang, cutting the conversation off.

They sprinted down the stairs back to their classroom, arriving breathless and to a pissed off history teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we're all caught up with what I've got posted on ff.net! This means that this will be the last chapter that I post for a while, because we're in the indexing part of the book making, and I've got an Elvish dictionary to write.


End file.
